


059 - Cute Meet, Long Flight

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “was wondering if you could write about the reader flying alone on a long flight and being sat next to Van, and they get talking and really hit it off?”  //  Note: Otherwise known as: how long does it take to fall in love with Van McCann? (Probably not even this long, tbh.)





	059 - Cute Meet, Long Flight

Take Off

It was your first international flight. You’d always been a bit of a nervous flyer, but a few hours here and there were manageable. 14 hours trapped in a cylinder of potential death, suspended 40,000 feet in the air by some sort of scientific witchcraft though… You were a little more than stressed.

You found your seat and were happy when you were next to the window. You put your overnight bag in the overhead compartment, and your small shoulder bag under your seat. You were taking a photo of the tarmac and wing when the seat next to the aisle became occupied. You looked over. A middle aged man in an uncomfortable looking suit sat there. He didn’t look over at you, so you turned away. You took a sneaky selfie, turned your phone off, and put it away. You could have sworn you heard the man make a quiet scoff.

Almost all the seats were occupied, and you thought maybe you had got lucky with an empty seat next to you. Commotion near the front door caught your attention. Someone had just arrived and the flight attendants were not happy about it. You sat up a bit to watch. It was a guy in his early twenties. He was wearing black jeans, a long sleeved tshirt, and a thick black denim jacket. His smile won over the attendant, and he walked down the aisle. He called “Thanks, love!” back at her. Somehow you knew his seat was the vacant one next to you. 

He politely said, “Sorry, mate, can I just get through?” The older man moved only slightly, and the guy awkwardly got through. He sat in his seat and looked back over at the man. “Bit like Fight Club, innit?“ 

"Excuse me?” the man replied. 

“Like, question of etiquette… ass or… no?" 

The man looked away without replying, and the young guy looked cut. He turned to you and smiled. 

"Fight Club?” he asked, looking for any sort of reaction at that point. 

“I don’t think we should talk about,” you replied and his face brightened and he laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the people around him. The older man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I’m Van,” the guy said and stuck his hand out enthusiastically. His hand was warm and the tips of your fingers begged you not to let him go. You made a mental note to calm the fuck down. 

“Y/N.”

Van fidgeted with an iPod while the crew went through the safety procedures. You listened intently, afraid that their demonstration would jinx something and you would at some point have to use the oxygen masks when they dropped. As the plane began to move and eventually pick up speed, your nerves were hard to ignore. Apparently, not just for you. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” Van asked. You were watching the wing of the plane shake against the force of the impending take off. How would it possibly survive? When you turned to Van, his face looked genuinely concerned. 

“Um, yeah. I just, uh… fear of flying, I guess.” The pauses and fragments saying more than the actual words used.

“You’ll be alright. More chance of getting killed by a coconut, right?”

“I don’t know if that’s the actual statistic, but I get what you mean,”

“You’ll be alright. Would holding hands help, or is that super weird?” he asked. His hand was already sitting on the arm rest, palm up. Yes, it would be super weird, but you were super into the idea. Holding hands was something that always reduced your anxiety in any situation, and that in addition to the calming blue of Van’s eyes was bound to help. You threaded your fingers through his, and he covered the top of your hand with his other. You closed your eyes and tried to not think about the velocity of which you were moving through space. Van was rubbing his thumb over your hand. What kind of a person would help a stranger out like that; be so comforting and sweet? 

 

Hour Three

You and Van had both been listening to music in the few hours since take off. You watched the clouds and felt as impressed with it all as you were when you first flew. You watched out the corner of your eye as Van put his headphones in the little pouch of the seat in front of him. He did it with a frustrated force. You turned your music down and pretended to not pay attention to him. He was bored and restless, and you’d only been in the air for a couple of hours. He pressed the button to call an attendant. When she arrived, he asked for headphones. She’d been gone for a long time, and when she finally returned she broke the news that someone had forgotten to restock them. She apologised and quickly left. He huffed. You took your headphones out and turned to him. He looked up.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” you said. He laughed. His laugh was loud and it kind of snapped at the end. It again drew the attention of everyone close by. “We can share mine, but you have to listen to my music?”

He was grateful, and it surprised you unawkward it was to be tied to him by the thin wire of your headphones. You liked the same music as each other for the most part. You both drifted into the daydream inducing sounds of Lana Del Rey.

 

Hour Four

A few albums later Van tapped you on the shoulder. You opened your eyes and looked at him. He wanted food and wanted to buy you something as a thank you. The attendant was happy to be able to provide him with something, given the headphone failure. Van bought almost one of every kind of snack and started to set up a makeshift picnic across your fold down tray and his. You watched and tried to not grin like an idiot. The man on Van’s other side was pretending to not watch. You thought he looked jealous. The picnic was complete with tiny little bottles of spirits. You cheers and clinked the little bottles together, and downed them in a race. You won, and Van seemed impressed.

The lights dimmed a little after that. You closed your eyes and handed your phone over to Van so he could pick something.

 

Hour Seven

Your eyes snapped open at a sound. It was the man closing an overhead compartment. He did it with such a force that it woke people. You sat up a bit and looked at Van. He was also coming out of a sleepy haze. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and your side hurt from where the arm rests dug into you. The flight manager’s voice sounded out across the cabin.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she started and you mumbled “and gender non-conforming” under your breath, “Pillows and blankets will now be issued for your comfort. We hope you are enjoying your flight.”

You closed the window.

“Do you maybe want to move these?” Van asked motioning to the arm rests.

“Oh my god, yes. I think they’ve already bruised me.”

He lifted them up, then handed over your pillow and blanket as the attendant came around. You tried to get comfy against the wall, your hip sliding to touch Van’s side. It wasn’t working.

“Alright. Come here. If we’re gonna do this, might as well do it right, yeah?” He had his arm out and you smiled and nodded. You cuddled into his side and he squirmed down with you. The middle aged man looked disgusted.

 

Hour Ten

You had no point of reference to say if you would have slept okay without Van. It was the longest you’d been on a plane, so maybe it was just that there was nothing else to do but sleep. Regardless, you slept well. When your eyes slowly fluttered open the cabin was bright with lights and open windows. You tried to work out if Van was awake. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm. If he was asleep, you didn’t want to disturb him. You stayed still and looked around.

The attendant came through to check if anyone needed anything. She looked over at you and made a confused face.

“I thought you didn’t know each other?” she asked.

“We don’t,” you replied quietly. She nodded and smiled.

“I’d try to keep that one if I were you,” she said with a wink and walked away.

Van stirred a few minutes later and asked if you wanted tea. He wanted tea.

 

Hour Twelve

You had been listening to Van talk for hours about his band and his dog and his friends and his life, and you were sure you’d never met anyone as in love with the world as him. When you asked to listen to his band’s music his face lit up. They were good, and you were surprised you’d not come across them before. He was on his way home from touring, heading home late after staying back to see some friends in L.A., but when he was back on the road you’d go see them. He made you promise. He held up a pinky finger, and when you curled yours around his it felt consequential.

 

Hour Fourteen

When the cabin crew prepared for landing and the captain’s voice came on over the speakers you started to feel nervous. Maybe it was the idea of being flung at the ground at high speeds that was stressing you out, or maybe it was the idea of having to unstick yourself from Van’s side and give back the blankets that had glued you together in a weird little space of magic. You watched him try to fold them up neatly in the limited space he had. He didn’t seem to care about being all up in the middle aged man’s area though. Van chucked you a wink when he ‘accidentally’ split the man’s open bottle of water on him.

You opened the window and could see the earth below. You buckled your seat belt and the arm rests were returned to their horizontal position. You held onto both of yours in a death grip when you felt the plane start to tip forward. Van’s hand was resting on his, and the hairs on your arm stood up whenever his skin brushed against yours. Your pinky was touching his, and he slowly curled it around yours. You bit your lip and tried to not think about it.

 

Landing

As the plane touched the ground with a heavy thump you felt your stomach flip. You kept your eyes closed. As soon as the plane came to a complete halt, you unbuckled your seat belt and leant forward, breathing out hard. Van laughed a little. You looked up at him.

“This is not funny, mate,”

“It’s a little funny. You made it though!”

The man stood before it was announced you were allowed to. He got his bag and almost ran down the aisle. Van turned to you and smiled.

“Is it something I said?”

You shook your head at him, smiling. He helped you get your bags. They were filled with books and things to keep you occupied on the flight; all of which went unused. You both waited patiently for people to file out onto the tarmac. You followed Van into the airport terminal. When you were inside he stopped and turned to you.

“Are you sick of me yet?” he asked. You looked around and pretended to think about it for a second. You shook your head.

“Why?”

“If you’re heading into the city, we could share a taxi? But I mean, if you’ve had enough of me and small spaces, I’d get that.”

He seemed hopeful. You looked at him, trying to read his intentions. His eyes flicked to the top of your head, and he stepped closer and brushed a part of your hair down. He made a small frown, licked his hand and tried again. The boy essentially just spat in your hair.

“Yeah. Alright. Lead the way.”


End file.
